


love isn’t always (but sometimes it is)

by eldee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Pining, Possible Canon Divergent after 3.16, Underage Drinking, Vague Spoilers up to 3.16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldee/pseuds/eldee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles arrive at college for Freshmen Week.  It’s a big step and a big change from life in Beacon Hills.  Scott knows they’re ready for that, but he wonders if their friendship is ready for even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love isn’t always (but sometimes it is)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yina_Ke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yina_Ke/gifts).



> Fic (and title) inspired by this provided prompt:
> 
> _Love isn't always racing hearts, wobbly knees, and churning stomachs. Sometimes it's quiet and calm; sometimes, it's the feeling of being connected to someone, of being grounded in this world because it has your loved person in it._
> 
>    
> NOTE: This was written before Episode 3.17 aired, so anything that happens in canon after that isn't incorporated. Thanks to my beta for reading through this! And I hope you enjoy, Yina_Ke!

"Dude," Scott announces loudly as he pushes open the door to the dorm room. "Look at this! It's awesome. It's ours!"

"I can't believe we're here," Stiles says as he follows Scott in. He takes a quick look around, eyes sharp and assessing. He announces, "I call dibs," and dumps his backpack onto the narrow twin bed away from the door and near the window.

That's fine by Scott; whatever will make Stiles feel safe, happy, Scott is willing to go with.

"We made it," Scott says, unable to stop his grin. "After the last couple years, we totally deserve this. We're just normal college students! This is going to be so good!"

Stiles snorts. His voice is laced with his own brand of sarcasm when he says, "Oh yeah, dude, that's us."

"Aw, come on," Scott says, throwing his arm around Stiles' neck and then pulling him down into a headlock. Stiles squawks and pushes against Scott to get away. Scott holds on just tight enough to keep Stiles in place but not hurt him. 

Scott turns around in a slow circle with Stiles tucked against his body, and makes sweeping gestures with his free arm. "It is us! We're college kids now. Look, there's your desk, and your wardrobe." He carefully jerks Stiles' head up. "And look, there's my bed, and my desk, and--"

Stiles struggles against him, making grunting noises and complaining over Scott's mundane declarations. "You asshole, let me go -- don't, you know you're stronger--"

"And once we unload the Jeep, we'll unpack everything, and make it down to the barbeque on the quad tonight--"

Suddenly, Scott yelps. Stiles' wiggling fingers are shoved into Scott's armpit. Scott involuntarily squirms and laughs, his hold loosening. Stiles takes the opportunity to, literally, sweep Scott off his feet by kicking his legs out from under him. 

Metaphorically, it's already happened, though Scott can't pin-point exactly when. Stiles has been there for a long time; it feels like always, and always will be. It's still a jumbled mess in Scott's head. But he's in no rush. Stiles isn't going anywhere. Of that, Scott is sure. He's just doesn't know how to be more than friends with someone who is… well, a friend. His best friend. With _Stiles_.

He can't mess this one up.

Scott falls to the floor, landing hard on his back. Stiles is quick and on him in an instant, long fingers wrapping around Scott's biceps and pinning him down. Scott could easily buck Stiles off, get away, but he doesn't. He lets Stiles' triumphant grin shine down on him.

"Got you," Stiles says, smug.

"Yup," Scott says. He's really glad Stiles can't hear the pounding of his heart, or detect how he uses his fall as a cover-up for the real way his breath is suddenly knocked out of him. "You've been practicing."

"I've learned a thing or two," Stiles says. "Goes with the territory of being friends with a bunch of werewolves."

"Not a bad thing."

"Didn't say it was." Stiles pauses for a moment, opening his mouth before snapping it shut. He stares down at Scott for a moment, but then just as suddenly pushes off of him. "Come on," he says, "let's get the rest of the stuff." He holds out a hand to help Scott up. Scott takes it firmly, giving it a squeeze as he gets up off the floor with ease.

"Hey, wait," Scott says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He brings up the camera and points it in the direction of Stiles, who automatically smiles big and gives a thumb up.

"For your mom?" Stiles asks as Scott grins at the picture.

"Yeah," Scott answers. Neither his mom or the Sheriff could make to the school with them because of work, but they were only two hours away. They'd be coming down for a visit in a couple weeks anyway. "She wants to see a picture of the room before, and I quote, we destroy it. We're supposed to send her a lived-in picture too."

"What, like tomorrow?" Stiles jokes, and then pulls out his phone too. "We need one of the both of us, then."

Scott presses up close to Stiles' side, and they make goofy faces at the camera. Stiles looks at it and laughs, and then thumbs across the touch screen. "Sending it to our parents."

"Instagram that shit," Scott says as he tugs on Stiles' arm. "So the rest of them can see too. They aren't allowed to forget us."

"As if they could," Stiles says, and Scott knows that's nothing but the truth.

It's weird being away from their parents, from their friends and the pack. Away from Beacon Hills and all the shit that went down, that they managed to get through.

But this, going to college together, it's going to be a good thing. The best thing. Scott can't imagine anyone other than Stiles being there for it.

"Okay, let's get this done," Scott says, stepping towards the door.

"Wait, just a second," Stiles says, concentrating on his phone and absently brushing past Scott. "One last thing."

"What?"

"Last one down has harpy breath," Stiles says, rushing out and slamming the door behind him.

"Stiles!" Scott yells after him, and grins as he hears Stiles laughing down the hall.

 

**

 

The first couple days of orientation are busy, and go by quickly. There are campus tours with upperclassmen, and ice-breaker events with fellow freshies. Scott enjoys learning about the school, meeting new people, and seeing new things. Life on campus is going to be worlds away from life in Beacon Hills, and while home is always in the back of his mind, he remains positive and upbeat.

Stiles and Scott aren't always together, going with different tour groups, checking out their different departments, but that's okay. More the chance for them to meet new people. But they go to the bigger social events together, chatting with other people living in their dormitory, and browse through the booths set up to promote different clubs and fraternities.

Stiles seems fine for a while, excitedly talking about the clubs and events to consider, and gossiping about the different people they meet. But a few days into Freshmen Week, he starts becoming more and more withdrawn.

"Dude, you okay?" Scott asks, bumping his shoulder against Stiles'. They're sitting on some back steps of one of the science buildings. They had decided to come and find it, since the majority of Scott's classes are going to be in this department, for his nursing courses. But honestly, Scott thinks Stiles had been wanting to get away from the crowds.

Stiles looks up from his phone. He's been spending more and more time on it, texting and browsing online. Scott thinks he's been creeping on their friends' various social media accounts. "What?" he asks distractedly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Scott frowns. "You sure, man? You've been quiet today." He gestures at the phone. "And pre-occupied."

"No, I'm just checking in with everyone," Stiles says, shrugging. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. "No biggie."

"Sure," Scott says with a smile, though he's determined to keep an eye on Stiles' mood. He wants to make sure Stiles is okay. Actually having Stiles agree to leave Beacon Hills had taken a surprising amount of convincing, but Scott had thought they'd got to a good place with it.

He might've been wrong.

" _Dude_ ," Stiles says, lightly punching Scott's arm. "Seriously, all good. Let's get back."

He gets up, placing a firm hand onto Scott's hair as he does, pushing down harder than he needs. Scott flinches out of the way, but Stiles cuffs him on the side of the head anyway. It's all playful, and Scott doesn't mind being there for Stiles' tactile needs. He's been used to it for a long time, accepting it as it comes, but lately he's become more... _aware_ of it, responding in kind, and he's been having to try to hide smiles each time.

Scott jumps up, and pushes Stiles' shoulder lightly. They fall into easy step side by side as they cut alongside one of the buildings.

"If something's wrong, you can tell me," Scott mentions off-hand.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but pats his pants pocket, where his phone is. "Apparently, nothing is wrong. That's a good thing."

"Sure," Scott agrees. "But if you're homesick, we can skip the party and go up for the weekend--"

He cuts off when Stiles stops walking and gives him an incredulous look. "We've been gone for four days. I am not _homesick_."

"Okay, okay," Scott says, putting his hands up placatingly.

"We're not kids anymore, we can be away from mom and dad," Stiles continues, indignant. "I don't need to be babied! This is college. This is our passage into adulthood! And acting like stupid idiots and going to parties and blowing off classes for hangovers!"

"That's not going to happen to me," Scott says. "Well, not the hangover part."

"Well it's going to happen to me!" Stiles says, brandishing a finger in the air.

Scott laughs. "Am I allowed to keep an eye on you when it does, or is that babying?"

"Dude, that is being my _bro_ ," Stiles says, throwing an arm around Scott's shoulder. "You'd better."

"Deal," Scott says, laughing. "How about we go and find some people to hang out with, and see if there're any parties to crash so that you can start your adult life of idiotness."

"Best plan, my man," Stiles says, dragging Scott in the direction of the quad.

"We can see if we can find those twin sisters again," Scott suggests. "I think they both liked you."

"Ha, no, you're so off base," Stiles says, laughing. "They totally have a thing for you. Go for it, man."

"Nah," Scott says, shaking his head. He doesn't think they do, but that isn't exactly been what he'd meant anyway. Meeting new people is cool, but Scott isn't going to stand in Stiles' way if he's interested in dating any, not that he does that a lot as it is. Scott just… isn't, but he's all for making new friends. "Not this time. But hanging out with them could be fun."

Stiles nods. "Playing the field, huh? Checking out who's out there at the new college. Or just being picky?"

"Don't need to be," Scott says, nonchalant. He claps Stiles on the back. A weird look crosses Stiles' face, but it's only for a second before he grins.

"Well if you're not going to hit on them, maybe I should," Stiles says, and his heartbeat jumps like a lie. He suddenly smells like sunshine and happiness, in a way he hasn't in a long time.

Scott grins back at him, suddenly pleased despite Stiles' words, relying instead on his scent and the slight pink of his cheeks. 

If there was anything wrong before, the feeling of it fades away as they make their way back toward their dorm, sticking together.

 

**

 

A reason to worry resurfaces. Scott knows something is wrong when he's woken up later that night. He hears Stiles whimpering, though quietly. When Scott looks over, Stiles is asleep, but his fingers are curling into his comforter and his eyes are moving behind his eyelids.

Scott gets out of bed, not bothering to be quiet. Hopefully some noise will wake Stiles up out of his dream. When it doesn't, Scott leans over Stiles and places a hand on his chest, over his heart, and says, "Stiles, wake up."

Stiles gives a full body jerk and his eyes fly open.

"You're not dreaming anymore," Scott says immediately. "It's me. It's Scott. And you're you."

"I know who you are," Stiles rasps out. His hand flies up to Scott's, but he doesn't bat it away. Instead, his fingers wrap around Scott's wrist, holding him in place. "I know who I am. It was just a dream. I'm fine. Normal people have dreams."

"Of course they do," Scott says, sitting down next to Stiles on the bed. They'd dealt with this, quite a while ago, and as far as Scott knew, Stiles hadn't had problems with dreams and hallucinations for a long time. That whole mess was over with.

But it doesn't mean there wasn't a reason to be a little worried about him.

"Stiles--"

"Dreaming about home," Stiles says. "Beacon Hills. And -- bad things happening there, while we're gone. Stupid, huh?"

"No, it isn't," Scott says. "With everything we've been through, it's a legit concern."

Stiles' fingers loosen their hold, but he doesn't let go. "Yeah, but... they're going to be fine."

"Yes, they are," Scott says. "The Nemeton's been destroyed for months. It's not attracting anything anymore."

"That doesn't mean supernatural things aren't going to show up."

"True, but that doesn't mean they'll be bad," Scott reminds gently. They've made friends, allies, that have come into town. It wasn't always all bad, all the time. "Besides, Derek and Mr. Argent are still there. They're keeping an eye on things."

"And my dad," Stiles says softly. Scott's not sure if that's something that's a comfort to Stiles, or the cause for concern. "He's still there, keeping his own eye on things. I just don't want anything keeping an eye on him, you know?"

"Your dad is, like, the strongest, most resilient guy I know. It's where you get it from," Scott says, and the corner of Stiles' mouth quirks up. "Everything is going to be fine. They'll all be fine. And if they need us, they'll let us know."

"You think so?" Stiles asks. He must answer his own question in his mind, because the tension visibly bleeds from his body, and he sinks back down to the mattress. "Everyone was so determined for us to leave." He snorts softly. "You'd think they didn't want us around anymore."

"You know that's not it," Scott says. "They just want us to have this experience."

Stiles' fingers tap on Scott's wrist thoughtfully. Finally, he sighs and lets go, his hand falling away. "I know."

"Good," Scott says. He reluctantly pulls back his own hand, but smiles at Stiles. "You gonna be able to sleep? Or should we go for a late night munchie run or something?"

Stiles laughs, but he shakes his head. "We'll leave that for the middle of study sessions. I'm good, bud."

"Cool," Scott says, and he retreats to his bed. He hears Stiles shift around; when he gets into and is settled, he turns to look at Stiles. Stiles has moved to his side, one hand tucked under his pillow and the other under his chin. He's watching Scott.

Scott isn't going to make a big deal out of any of it. He doesn't think that'll help much. He just says softly, "Night, Stiles."

Stiles' eyelids start to droop with sleep again, like he's relaxed, and that's a good sign. "Night, Scott. Thanks for, you know."

Scott doesn't sleep much the rest of the night, but at least he knows Stiles does.

 

**

 

Saturday night wraps up Freshmen Week with a big party out on the quad, first with a live band and then a DJ playing to the mass of bodies that are swaying and jumping on the makeshift dance floor out in the open air.

There's not supposed to be underage drinking, of course, but the air is thick with the wheaty smell of beer, and the occasional whiff of pot too. Scott doesn't bother with either of them -- it's not like it affects him, but he doesn't want to get busted before classes even start. 

Stiles, on the other hand, seems to think sneaking some whenever he can is his given right as a freshie. But as far as Scott knows, he's only had a couple rum and cokes at the dorm room; their new friend down the hall shared his present from his older sister for even getting into college.

Scott has since lost Stiles in the crowd of loud, drunk students, but he knows they'll catch up later. Scott stops to talk to a couple girls he did a tour with earlier in the week, who are also in the nursing program, and he's happy that there will be a couple familiar faces in class on Monday. 

That's the weird part, that Stiles and Scott are only sharing one elective class together -- Folklore, at Stiles' insistence -- so everyone will be new. At least in high school there was always at least one of the pack in his classes, someone to sit with and talk to and figure out homework with. Scott doesn't have that safety net now. It's not a bad thing, necessarily, but an adjustment for sure. And it's not like Scott isn't going to see Stiles at their room all the time anyway.

When the girls break off to go and find their friends they're supposed to meet up with, Scott wanders through the crowd a bit, trying to find Stiles. He focuses more now, testing his own abilities in a large crowd of people to pinpoint where Stiles is.

It doesn't take long to find him; his laugh is distinctive, and so is his smell, even in a wash of so many others. Scott listens to the familiar thrum of Stiles' heartbeat, using it like a beacon and finds his own steps fall in time with it. He breaks through to the edge of the circle, and sees Stiles talking animately with the twins they'd met earlier in the week.

One of the girls is leaned up against a lamppost, red solo cup in her hand as she surveys the crowd, looking bored. Her sister, though, is intently paying attention to Stiles as he animately waves his hands around. Scott focuses in on his voice, and hears Stiles telling the funny story about the service at the truck stop they had to go to on the way down to school.

The girl laughs, head tilted back and long dark hair swaying against her back. Then she leans forward and puts a hand on Stiles' forearm, just a light brush of a touch. Stiles still looks incredibly pleased by it.

It's like a punch to the stomach.

Scott has taken a lot of actual punches to the stomach in the last couple years. With fists and claws and everything. He's strong now, built to take it, but it's not like it doesn't hurt every time.

That's sort of what it feels like now, watching Stiles with someone else. Scott wonders when this even started, and if it'll always be that way, or if the pain will fade little by little with each time until it turns into nothing more than a casual annoyance. He hopes that it'll be something that just stops, because that's not fair to anyone.

Stiles looks over suddenly, finding Scott in the crowd with no problem at all, as if he had werewolf senses of his own. He's good at doing that, though, even before any of that sort of stuff came into play. Scott smiles, genuine, because he's honestly happy Stiles is having a good time. He raises his hand in a quick wave. Stiles pauses for a minute, lips pursed together, but then smiles back. 

They do that thing where they have an entire conversation in nothing but a series of gestures. Scott hooks his thumb back, indicating he's going back to the dorm room, and Stiles lifts his eyebrows, asking if Scott wants him to come too. Scott just smiles and shakes his head, because he doesn't want to be the reason Stiles leaves a party early, not when he's talking to pretty girls. 

The two girls' heads turn back and forth, like watching a ping pong match between them. Stiles doesn't look like he accepts Scott's ready to go back without him, so Scott just waves and smiles at them all, and turns back into the crowd. He's sure one of the girls will distract Stiles.

Or maybe not.

Not even a minute later, while Scott is weaving his way in and out of the crowd, losing himself in it and his own thoughts again, that there's a sudden weight on his back. He'd let himself get so distracted he didn't even sense Stiles' approach. Scott huffs out a strangled laugh as Stiles' arms wrap around his neck and he pulls himself up into a piggy-back position. 

"Hey, dude, what's up?" Stiles asks, and his speech is more noticeably slurred then when Scott talked to him last. His breath also smells heavily of something much stronger than beer or rum and coke.

"What were you drinking?" Scott asks. He puts his hands around to grip under Stiles' thighs, and hikes him up further so he doesn't fall.

"Shots with that Deigo guy."

"Deigo guy," Scott says, rolling the name around on his tongue, trying to place the story. "Did your tour with him the other day?"

"Yup," Stiles says. "The really pretty one." His hand comes up to squish Scott's cheeks together so that he's making fish-lips. "But, don't worry, not as pretty as you. None of them are."

Scott laughs, tilting his head out of the way and nearly dropping him. It just makes Stiles' body clench tighter around his so he doesn't fall. "Stop it," he says with another laugh. He's glad Stiles can't see his stupid little smile.

Stiles slides down carefully, but when on solid ground on his own two feet, he starts to sway a little.

Scott laughs again. "Starting the idiot thing early, huh?"

"Sunday tomorrow," Stiles says, throwing an arm around Scott's shoulders and leaning heavily on him. "I can sleep the hangover away. Which means we don't have to go back yet, you know." He makes a grand, sweeping gesture. "We're young and having fun and don't leave me, Scott."

"Never," Scott says, slipping his arm around Stiles' waist. "You seemed to be getting along with those girls, I didn't want to interrupt."

"Scott, there were two of them!" Stiles says, and he laughs. He shimmies closer to Scott's side, and presses his nose into Scott's cheek. "More fun with you there, anyway."

"I hope you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting." Scott pauses for a moment and tilts his head against Stiles' forehead. "Or maybe I am."

Stiles laughs, bright and full and a little on the loud side of drunk. It warms Scott's insides, knowing that Stiles is this happy and pliant, more relaxed than he has been all week.

"This is going to be good," Stiles says, leaning against Scott. "All of it, it's going to be good. I know that, now, I do. You're here. It _can't_ be bad."

Before Scott can respond, Stiles quickly presses a kiss to Scott's cheek. It's quick and chaste, and catches Scott so off guard he doesn't know how to react. But that doesn't seem to matter, because he isn't given the time to. Stiles is already a flurry of movement, pulling away but grabbing Scott's hand and lacing their fingers together. He's tugging on Scott, guiding him through the crowd, and muttering about going to find pretty Diego again. 

He squeezes Scott's hand as he says so, and Scott lets himself be led through the crowd, smile on his face as he follows.

 

**

 

"Dude," Scott says with a laugh, "you are going to be feeling this so much tomorrow. And I'm going to laugh at you. A lot, you asshole."

"Then _you're_ the asshole, asshole," Stiles slurs.

Despite the joking tone of his words, Scott is gentle as he eases Stiles down onto his bed in their dorm room. They'd definitely found Diego, and they'd definitely did a few more shots -- even Scott, unable to resist Stiles' enthusiasm about it. They both knew it wasn't going to do anything, but it was easier for Scott to blend in a little bit, and their new friends were very impressed with how well Scott could hold his drink.

And very amused at how badly Stiles is at it.

"You're mean. A mean friend. Meanie bestie friendie," Stiles mutters, and then laughs at himself. He wiggles out of his jeans and t-shirt so that he's stripped down to his boxers.

"Awful, I know," Scott says. "Sit up a bit, you need to drink some of this." Stiles sits up just enough so that he can take some sips from the bottle of water Scott holds up to him.

"Best, actually," Stiles says as he sinks back down to the bed. "Best friend. Best guy. Best everything."

Scott grins down at him, but moves to get up. Before he gets very far, Stiles' hand shoots out and he's got a surprisingly strong grip on Scott's arm. 

"Don't leave," Stiles says. He tries to pull Scott down. "Stay here. Stay here with me."

"I'm going to get the trash can and put it beside your bed," Scott says, gently getting his arm out of Stiles' grip. "In case you're sick."

"Oh, right," Stiles says, lifting his head for a moment and then groaning, closing his eyes and letting it drop back down to the pillow. "Good idea. But then stay."

Scott gets the can and places it beside the bed. "I'll be right over there, you know."

"Not close enough," Stiles mumbles. "Never close enough. Not anymore. It should be more."

Scott freezes in spot. He has to remind himself that Stiles has been drinking, that he's drunk and just saying stupid things because of it. It's nothing.

"Get down here," Stiles says again, opening his eyes. They're glassy as they look up, but they meet Scott's and somehow Scott knows Stiles is fully aware of what he's saying. "Stay here with me."

"Drink more water first," Scott says, grabbing the bottle of the night stand again, holding it out. 

Stiles grabs the bottle from Scott's hand and takes deeps gulps, some of it spilling down to land on his bare chest. Scott swallows hard, reminds himself again that Stiles is _drunk_ , but knows he won't turn away Stiles' request. He's not going to bail on his friend for a second time that night.

Stiles' grin is bright when Scott pulls off his own shirt and pushes down his jeans, but not going to his own side of the room. Stiles starts wiggling around on the bed, trying to move over.

"No way," Scott says, hand on Stiles' thigh to stop him. "You're not going against the wall. You'll end up leaning over and puking on me instead of in the can."

"I would not," Stiles grumbled, but moves the other way so he's on the edge of the bed and Scott can squeeze himself between Stiles and the wall. The bed is really too small for two of them, and they're incredibly close.

"I'm going to fall," Stiles complains. That doesn't stop him from grabbing Scott's arm and dragging it over him while he pushes himself back so he fits into the curve of Scott's body, spooning them together.

Scott freezes, his body tense. They don't do... _this_. They share a bed sometimes, sure, usually a bigger one, or top to toe, and the number of times they've fallen asleep on couches or chairs or the floor while doing research is uncountable. But they aren't this, and they shouldn't be while Stiles isn't quite himself, either.

Stiles sighs and snuggles back a little more. Scott gulps and says, "Stiles--"

"This doesn't mean anything," Stiles says, and that is like another punch to the gut. This time, it hurts more, even though that's just stupid. Scott knows it is. Instead, Stiles pats the back of Scott's hand, where it's resting lightly on Stiles' bare stomach. "We need to talk, so that it can mean more, but right now I'm drunk and you're a goody-goody and tomorrow when everything is better it's going to be even _better_."

Scott ducks his head down, hiding a grin against Stiles' shoulder blade. Stiles exhales shakily, but he doesn't move. 

"You're not making any sense," Scott says. 

"Tomorrow," Stiles says, patting Scott's hand again. "Tomorrow, it will. Go to sleep, Scott."

"Okay," Scott says agreeably. He closes his eyes, but waits until Stiles' breath evens out before he falls asleep.

 

**

 

Scott is woken up by the sun streaming through the windows, having not remembered to shut the blinds the night before. Then again, it might be the way Stiles has turned over in his sleep and half-flopped himself against Scott that's done it too.

Scott looks down at Stiles and has to hold in a snort. He's just so... Stiles, not even waking up but with his cheek resting against Scott's chest, lips parted while he breathes through his mouth. Scott's seen him passed out dozens of times before and gives it about two minutes before he starts drooling.

Scott finds he doesn't mind. He puts his hand on Stiles' back, rubbing light circles. Stiles snuffles, rocks his head like he's trying to get comfortable, but then sighs contently and continues sleeping.

Scott leaves him like that for a while, slipping in and out of dozing while Stiles continues to sleep through his inevitable hangover. 

Eventually, it's a bit uncomfortable and Stiles' weight is pressing down on him and, man, Scott has to piss. Wedged between Stiles and the wall, it's not easy to maneuver out of bed without waking Stiles. He makes a little grumpy noise when his head hits the mattress.

"Whaaa-"

"Go back to sleep," Scott whispers at him, patting his back and then slipping down to the end of the bed.

Stiles lifts his head for a second but then let's it fall back down with a grunt. "Where you going?"

"Bathroom," Scott says. "You need water or anything?"

"Sure," Stiles says, but Scott knows he's out of it again before Scott even pulls a pair of sweats on.

Scott takes his time, grabbing his towel and wash supplies, and takes a shower before stopping at the vending machine and getting Stiles water and some Gatorade. When he gets back to the room, Stiles is sprawled out and still asleep, dead to the world. Scott quietly snoops through his stuff and gets a couple of Tylenol, and leaves them and the bottles on Stiles' little bedside table. 

He doesn't crawl back into Stiles' bed because there really isn't room unless Scott wakes him up, and Scott's too awake to just lie there anyway. But he doesn't want to go out and leave Stiles all alone incase he gets sick when he wakes up, so Scott stacks his pillows on his own bed against the wall to lean on, opens up his laptop, and finds a movie to stream.

A couple hours later, Scott pulls one of his headphones out of his ear when he notices significant movement from Stiles' bed. He looks over to see Stiles rolled onto his back and trying to push himself up onto his elbows. 

"How're you feeling?" Scott asks, maybe a little too loudly, with a grin.

Stiles groans but drops his feet to the floor beside his bed and sits up into a slumped-over position. "Like something crawled into my mouth and died."

"Gross," Scott says, scrunching his nose. 

Stiles spies the pills and waters and immediately picks them up. "Thanks, man," he says, and swallows them down. He drinks the entire bottle, drops it empty into the trashcan still beside his bed, and picks up the Gatorade. He sips that more slowly.

"I would kill for a shower," he says, standing up and stretching. He looks a little pale, but not like he's going to be terribly sick, which is a good thing.

"Pretty sure that's not necessary," Scott says. "You can walk down the hall to have one, no murder or mayhem needed."

"Would take too much energy anyway," Stiles says with a shrug, and starts rifling through his own stuff.

"Shower or murder?"

"Both," he says, throwing a towel over his shoulder. "But probably less for a shower, so I'll just stick to that."

"Good plan," Scott says solemnly, nodding his head.

"Be back in a bit," Stiles says, grabbing his kit and some spare clothes.

"I'll be here," Scott says, and goes to put his earbud back in. He pauses it halfway to his ear when he notices Stiles has gone still. Stiles is staring at him intently, way more focus and attention than Scott would expect in his condition.

"I know," Stiles says, serious, before quickly turning around and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Scott blinks at the back of the door, smiles to himself, and goes back to watching his movie while he waits for Stiles to return.

 

**

 

"Hey," Stiles says, moments after he came back to the room, smelling like body soap and minty-fresh toothpaste. "Shove over."

"Oh, is this how it is," Scott says, though he's shuffling over to the wall again to make room for Stiles to sit next to him. "Now you're maybe going to puke on my bed? Great."

"I'm not going to get sick," Stiles says snottily. "I had too much water and sleep for that to happen. You and all your taking care of me has robbed me of an important college experience, you know. First time throwing up after the first night of heavy drinking."

"Sorry," Scott says, not sounding very sorry at all.

Stiles snorts, and stacks his own pillows next to Scott's. "What're you watching?" he asks as he settles in, long legs pressing up against Scott's.

"Second Iron Man. Watched the first first when you were sleeping," Scott says. He pulls out his headphones and throws over Stiles to the night stand. "It's almost over, though."

"Good, I like the third one better anyway," Stiles says, not even questioning that they are in fact going to watch it next.

"I know you do," Scott says fondly, happy Stiles is awake for it.

Stiles goes still for a moment, but then reaches over and closes the laptop.

"Hey," Scott says, surprised. "What're you doing? I thought we were watching that. Or, hey, you hungry? Want to go for pancakes?"

"Jesus Christ, now I really want pancakes. And bacon," Stiles says, his stomach grumbling as if seconding that. But he shakes his head. "But, no, not yet -- we should talk."

"O-kaaaay," Scott says slowly. He looks at Stiles expectantly. He's… he kind of thinks he knows what this is about, but maybe he's wrong. And Stiles isn't often short of words, so he waits patiently for Stiles to say what he needs to say.

Stiles sits there and stares back, not saying anything. He opens his mouth once or twice, then snaps it shut.

"Okay," Scott says, shrugging. "It's okay, we can just go-- _oh_."

He's cut off when Stiles leans in quickly and kisses him on the corner of the mouth. It's not a full on kiss, but it's not a simple peck to the cheek either. It's like a question. Stiles doesn't pull back very far, but enough so that his eyes flit from looking at Scott's eyes and to his mouth and back up again.

"Oh," Scott says, with a little nod. So he answers back, and brushes a kiss square on Stiles' lips. It's soft but it's a yes. It's an invitation for more, because he wants it, and he wants Stiles to know.

Stiles... does know. Scott wonders if he has for a while now.

"So when did this happen?" Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow. He settles back just a little bit more, but not much.

Scott shrugs. "I don't know. Sorta recently? Maybe longer, but I just didn't..."

"Realize?" Stiles supplies. He nods along when Scott does. "Yeah, I think so too."

"So what do we do about it?" Scott asks.

"We're still us," Stiles says firmly. "How we are with each other, and hanging out, that sort of thing doesn't change. We're friends. Best friends."

"But with benefits?" Scott asks. He can't keep from frowning. That wasn't quite what he was hoping for. Not at all, actually. He doesn't think he can be that kind of guy. And he doesn't want to be, not with Stiles of all the people.

Stiles is already shaking his head. "No, I mean -- we should, you know. Be together. Boyfriends. I just don't think it'll be that hard to actually do that. We already know each other so well. But now there's just the whole--" he gestures at Scott -- "getting into each other's pants. You know?"

A smile spreads across Scott's face, because yeah. Yeah, he _does_ know. "Yeah," Scott says, "I get it. There'll just before more of this..."

He leans in and kisses Stiles again, this time his hand sneaking up so that his fingers rest along Stiles' jaw. Stiles makes a little, desperate noise, as if it's been sitting there for a while, waiting to come out. Comfortable and real and wanting.

"Yeah," Stiles says against his mouth, shifting a bit so he's turned more into Scott. His hand curls up into the loose material of Scott's t-shirt, tugging on it as if trying to pull Scott closer when all he does is inch forward himself. "Yeah, exactly this."

He swings a leg over suddenly, and the next Scott knows is he's got a lap full of Stiles. He laughs and puts his hands on Stiles' thighs as Stiles lazily rests his on Scott's shoulders. Scott's head falls back against his pillows as he looks up.

"Is that it?" Scott says. "Is that all the talking we need to do?"

"It got us kissing and me straddling you," Stiles points out. "What more could you possibly want?"

"I want a lot more," Scott says, pushing his face against Stiles' neck. "All of the more."

Stiles chuckles, his shoulder bumping against Scott's nose as he does. "Yeah, yeah I want that too." He pulls back enough so he can cup Scott's face in his hands and looks intently into Scott's eyes. "We don't have to do this, you know. Not right away, or fast, or whatever. We can take it slow. Maybe we should."

It could be a dig at Scott, since he has a tendency to rush into relationships, and along with that, into sex maybe sooner than he should. But it doesn't feel like it's an insult, it's just concern. Scott appreciates it, actually.

Scott huffs, but not meanly. He smiles at Stiles. Stiles, we've been taking it slow forever. I don't think there's been anything slower than us getting to _here_. It's fine. I'm fine. We're going to be fine."

Stiles frowns, but only a little. "Okay. If you're sure. I mean, I know you've never been with a guy before, have you? I mean, not that you've told me, and I'm pretty sure you would've told me. I mean, I told you when I hooked up with one. Or two. Whatever."

It was more like four, by Scott's last count, but it's been a long while since it was a guy _or_ a girl. It's not that it matters, though, because that's how Stiles chooses to do things. Scott had always pegged him as being a monogamous sort of guy, but once he was over his crush on Lydia, he more played the field. Hooked-up, yeah, but not really dated much. Not seriously. It was like he was waiting for the right person, trying to find them. 

Scott has to bite back a grin knowing that, well, that person is _him_. Unexpected, but awesome.

"Yes, you did tell me, and no, I haven't," Scott says honestly, but they both knew that. "And you haven't been in a serious relationship with much of anyone, so I guess we both have things to contribute and things to learn."

Stiles' eyebrows raise, but he laughs a little. "Point," he says, and gives Scott a slow kiss. He doesn't pull away much this time, but his breath fans against Scott's lips when he sighs, then he tenses up a little. "It's just that -- with all this -- I mean, are you sure you want to? Do this? The, uh, physical stuff."

"I'm sure I want you," Scott says immediately, hands rubbing up and down Stiles' back, trying to relax him. "Maybe I don't want all guys, but I want _you_ , okay?" 

Stiles doesn't have a lie detector built into his senses, not like Scott does, but he must believe something in what Scott says, or how he says it. Or maybe it's just because it's _Scott_ saying it. But whatever it is, it has Stiles practically melting into his hands as he mumbles, "Okay, okay good," against his lips.

They wiggle down a bit so that rather than leaning against the wall, they're laying out on the bed, on their sides and facing each other. Their legs are entwined and arms wrapped around each other and they just _kiss_. It's sweet and lazy, with no real desperation or rush. Exploring each other in this way they never have before. Scott can't remember the last time he did this with someone, took his time and relaxed, just purely enjoying physical touch for what it was.

Stiles' lips are red and swollen, and there's a blush to his cheeks as he laughs. "I can't believe we're doing this," he says, with a little chuckle of disbelief mixed in with awe.

"I know, right?" Scott says, leaning in to nip lightly at Stiles' jaw. "It's awesome."

"It really is," Stiles agrees, hand cradling the back of Scott's head as he starts to trail kisses over Stiles' collar bones. 

It is different, being with a guy, but not in a bad way. Just different. Stiles has sharp edges and flat planes, hard muscles under soft skin. His hands are big as his fingers splay across Scott's back. His moans are pitched much lower, and there's a little rasp of stubble since he hadn't shaved that morning. Scott finds he can't stop dragging his fingernails through the treasure trail that leads down from under Stiles' navel and disappears into his sweats, which have somehow been dragged down dangerously low on his hips.

Scott bites his lower lip for a second, and then lets his hand wander a bit lower. 

He cups Stiles' hard-on through his sweatpants, drinks in Stiles' moan with a kiss. It's not like Scott hadn't known it was there; Stiles has been trying to angle his hips away from Scott, but not with full success. And it's not like Scott doesn't have a hard-on of his own, not with so much kissing and touching and bare chests pressed together.

"Scott," Stiles says, nipping at Scott's lower lip, biting down a bit harder when Scott's hand starts rubbing over his length. "You don't -- oh, god -- if you don't want--"

"Shut up," Scott says, affectionate voice weighed down with something more heady. "I want to." He really does.

Stiles groans again, but leans back just enough to that Scott's hand has more room to move, easier ability to rub him over him. He squeezes a little, and Stiles' head falls back, mouth open. Scott can't help but dart his tongue out to lick up his exposed neck.

"Scott, can you" -- Stiles pauses a moment to take in a deep breath -- "can you touch me? Please. Jerk me off."

Scott tenses for a moment, making Stiles tense too, but it's not for the reason Stiles probably thinks. There's no worry, no _hesitation_ , Scott just has to gather himself for a second.

"Yes, god yes," Scott mumbles into Stiles' shoulder, kissing it. His hand dips under the band of Stiles' sweats, and the next thing he knows, he has another guy's cock in his hand. 

No. No, he has _Stiles'_ cock in his hand, and it's freaking awesome. 

Scott jerks him off, and it's really not all the different than doing it to himself. He's got this, Scott is _amazing_ at this, and by the way Stiles is shuddering against him, moaning and jerking his hips, he's doing a pretty good job using his jerking-off skills on someone else too.

He pulls back a little bit so he can watch Stiles' face, the way his eyes are squeezed shut and the way his adam's apple bobs as he takes in deep breaths. Then he looks down to see. Stiles has pushed the sweatpants down a little bit so that he's exposed to mid-thigh. That's Stiles' junk, which Scott has totally seen before, but not in this intimate way. Not with the noises Stiles is making, or with the way his fingernails are digging into Scott's skin. He's flushing right down from his cheeks and neck to his chest, all splotchy and red and turned-on.

Scott's known Stiles for a long time, but he's never seen him like _this_. And it's for Scott, because of Scott, and it's amazing. 

"Come on," Scott says, pressing a kiss to Stiles' mouth. Stiles can't really kiss him back, though, too busy panting and trying to take in air. "You close?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm--" Stiles groans when Scott's thumb presses against the slip of his cockhead, gathering the pre-come there "-- god, yeah, a little faster, _please_."

Scott does as asked, and it's only a couple more strokes until Stiles' body has seized up, toes curling into the covers at the end of the bed, and he comes in Scott's hand. 

Scott waits it out while Stiles comes down from his orgasmic glow, just tucking his face into Stiles' neck and lightly patting his stomach. Stiles' arms automatically clutch Scott tight and he finally catches his breath enough to say, " _Dude_."

"Good, then?" Scott asks, almost uncertain. Not that he doubts Stiles enjoyed it, but still--

"Dude!" Stiles says again, trying to press on his shoulders and get him onto his back. The bed is small, though, so Stiles mostly ends up elbowing Scott in the ribs and Scott almost knees him in the crotch. It takes them a moment and in the fray, Scott ends up laughing more as Stiles' legs get twisted up in the sweatpants that are now tangled around his feet than worry about whether or not he gave a good handjob.

Stiles finally flops down on Scott's chest with an _umph_ , and then looks up at him. "Hi," he says, wide smile, and then kisses the underside of Scott's jaw.

"Hi," Scott says, and tries to lift his head to get closer for a real kiss. 

Stiles puts his large hand on Scott's face and pushes back, saying, "Nah-uh, wait, my turn." He starts to slither down Scott's body, his hands pulling Scott's boxers and sweats down as he goes.

"Oh, yup, so romantic," Scott tries to joke, but his breath catches when Stiles kisses his hip.

"Not gonna lie, not going for romance right now," Stiles murmurs, now kissing across Scott's stomach. "Can I maybe offer a wicked blowjob in exchange for a wicked handjob?"

"Uh," Scott answers, because his brain is fried as Stiles starts to nuzzle his balls, which only makes Stiles huff a laugh.

"Yeah, I thought so," he says, and takes Scott's cock by the base in one hand and licks his tongue up the shaft.

Stiles doesn't lie. It _is_ wicked. It's like Stiles' mouth was made for this, the way he's able to take so much of Scott in, his tongue laving at the vein along the underside. He hollows his cheeks and he sucks and _sucks_ and Scott nearly yelps with how perfect it is.

"Jesus," Scott says, hand on Stiles' shoulder, nails pressing in so that he doesn't grab his hair and pull. He groans as Stiles hums around his dick. It's not like he hasn't had a blowjob before, but even through the haze of a building orgasm, he can't help but view it a different way. About how he really, _really_ wants to reciprocate someday. "You need to teach me how to do _that_."

Stiles groans like he's about to come, like he just hadn't, like the thought of teaching Scott how to be with men is the biggest turn-on. Maybe it is, and that alone is nearly enough to tip Scott over the edge.

"I'm -- come on, I'm close--" Scott says, tapping Stiles on the shoulder to let him know. It only makes Stiles more determined, more focused on sucking, not caring about the spit dripping down Scott's dick or how obscene he looks with his mouth around him. The hand around the base of Scott's cock squeezes a little, and then pumps faster, and Scott groans as he comes in Stiles' mouth. Stiles swallows him down, seemingly without a second thought for it.

"You really need to teach me _that_ too," Scott says, going boneless and feeling like he could sink right through the mattress. Stiles chuckles a little, wiping around his mouth with the back of his hand, and then crawls back up the bed. He flops onto Scott's chest.

"So," Scott says, "that was us having sex."

"That was us having _amazing_ sex," Stiles says, sounding a little put out Scott hadn't made that clear in the first place.

Scott laughs. "Totally amazing. We should do that again."

"Definitely," Stiles says. He leans up at Scott to playfully leer at him. "Right now? I could totally help get you revved up and going again. Just saying."

"Yeah, that wouldn't take too long with you," Scott says, and Stiles' face goes incredibly fond for about two seconds before he catches himself. He pushes himself up off of Scott, completely unabashed that he's naked and now straddling Scott.

"However, this boyfriend of mine promised me pancakes," Stiles announces, and gets off the bed. "So we should do that first."

"We do need our energy," Scott agrees, and pulls his sweats and boxers back up as he watches Stiles dig around for some clean clothes.

Once they're dressed and looking decent for the world, Stiles finds his phone and checks his messages as they head out into the hallway. They're just outside their dorm building when Stiles pauses and grabs Scott's wrist, frowning for a moment.

"What?" Scott asks, concerned. He hopes Stiles isn't regretting anything already.

"What the hell are we going to say to everyone?" Stiles says. He holds up his phone. "My dad just asked me how my day was going."

"Please don't tell him we had sex," Scott says immediately. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid, I'm not going to say _that_." He bites his lower lip for a moment before adding, "But how do I tell him that I'm, you know, having a great day hanging out with my boyfriend. Who is you. You, who is... Scott."

"Well, he's your dad. You could just tell him," Scott says to ease Stiles' anxiousness. He would never ask Stiles not to tell his father, that's not cool.

"Yeah, I could," Stiles says, giving Scott a considering look. Scott knows it's more about the fact his new boyfriend is _Scott_ rather than it is about Stiles himself. "It's not like he doesn't know about me and guys. It's not a coming-out thing, it's just an informing him of my change of relationship status. That'll probably surprise him more than the fact it's you. Or, well, maybe not. Since, you know, you haven't done that whole telling people thing yet. You sure you're okay with me telling him?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, if you say so," Stiles says. He takes a deep breath, and then sends off a text. He glances at Scott, looking happy, and then says, "And your mom? And the rest of them?"

"I'll call my mom in a second. First, let's see your phone," Scott says, holding out his hand. He pulls up the camera once Stiles hands it over. He puts his arm around Stiles' shoulder and holds the phone up for a selfie. "Hey, Stiles," he says softly, looking at him. Stiles looks back, and then Scott kisses him. Stiles smiles against his lips, but kisses back too.

When he pulls away, Scott brings up the pictures he just took and grins wide. He hands the phone back to Stiles. "Pick the best, then Instagram that shit."

Stiles laughs, but as they walk towards the diner that's on campus, he remains busy on his phone and Scott holds onto his elbow so that he doesn't walk into any lamp posts or trip over garbage bins. With his other hand, Scott pulls out his own phone and calls his mom. It's only fair she find out as soon as everyone else, and definitely from him.

His heart is pounding when he tells his own mother, "Hey, so me and Stiles are dating now. Just so you know. It's pretty cool." She sounds a little shocked at first, but it quickly eases away. She says that as long as Scott's happy, and Stiles is too, that's all she wants for them. And she thanks him for telling her, as if he'd even consider not doing it.

"Your mom is the best," Stiles says after Scott relays the conversation. 

"She really is," Scott says. He knows that he'll have to sit down and have a more serious talk about it with her, but he's honestly not worried. She knows Stiles is Scott's whole world, it's just a little different now. In a good way, and he has a feeling she'll be pretty understanding of it. She already is.

Once they're seated and their meal arrives, Stiles takes a second to look at his phone again. It sounds like everyone knows and no one is surprised.

Stiles looks out the window at campus, at their new school and their new life, and then turns back at Scott, smiling. "This is going to be so good, man."

"Told you it would be," Scott says. He loops his foot around Stiles' ankle and steals a piece of bacon off his plate.

It's going to be amazing, he already knows.


End file.
